The Path Between the Stars
by oh-you-pretty-things
Summary: Jareth has whittled away at Sarah's defenses for ten years. On a park bench, in the middle of the night, can she keep them up one last time? ONESHOT.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Labyrinth, or the characters associated with the film. They are the property of the Jim Henson Company. Nor am I the creator of the line: "Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say. And, I will be your slave." Some genius writer employed by the Jim Henson Company circa 1986 wrote that doozie.

AN: I wrote this while taking a mental break from a much longer fanfic (Inevitable Recrudescence).

A girl was sitting on a park bench, in the middle of the night. There was no sadness left in her, there was nothing left to be honest. A warm breeze teased a long dark tress across her face. She pulled herself back as far as she could on the bench so that her feet were not touching the ground, and she proceeded to swing her legs. From the distance, she might look like a child patiently waiting to be picked up from school.

"Another one bites the dust," she said in a whisper that was barely audible.

She sighed and shook her head softly in resignation. How many had it been? She had the ability to _make_ friends, but she was not equally inclined to _keep_ friends. Especially boyfriends. She sighed again. It was then that she felt his presence, sitting next to her on the bench, just like an ordinary man. She did not look at him, she didn't need to. He was always around, savouring her misery. Or, at least it always seemed that way to her.

"Is it you?" she asked. "Do you make them leave?"

He did not look at her. She caught a wisp of long, silvery blond hair fluttering in the wind invading her peripheral vision. Damn him and his distractive, _destructive _nature.

"No," he stated simply. "You do."

She released a long, sad sigh. Oh, there it was: the truth. He always gave it to her, in its barest form. Sadness swept over her, returning from its short vacation. She turned to him, and drank in his beauty. Never changing, his long, wild hair floated on the breeze with an ease that was so _him_. His clothes were, of course, dramatic:

His stormy grey pants fit closer than any man should allow, and evidently, he was not a man. His silky white, and ridiculously theatrical, shirt gaped in the front just enough to take a girl's breath away, which was always his goal. And tonight, he'd finished the look with a soft, mahogany leather coat. This was a considerably understated outfit for the King of the Goblins. He turned his head to face her. His powerful cerulean met her soft jade with an obvious fervour. She frowned lightly.

"Why is your one pupil so large?" she asked, with all the inquisitiveness of a child.

He smiled, if that's indeed what you would call that slight upturn at the corners of his lips. Teasingly, he responded.

"Why have you never thought to ask before now?"

Sarah shrugged, "I've got nothing, Goblin King, nothing."

"Ah, Sarah," he whispered, a hint of lust in his voice. "You have me."

At this, she raised her eyebrows. She wished she could feel more right now, but he'd worn her down over the years. She knew what he was after, what he'd always been after, why he'd never left her alone. Sarah fought him every step of the way. To give in now would make all the past years worthless.

"Answer my question, Jareth." She shot his name at him as though it were a curse.

At this, he smiled, or rather smirked ferociously. He could see her eyes harden in the darkness, anger…cruelty slipping in to replace indifference. He opened his eyes wide and moved in dangerously close to her face. Raising his hands and moving them across his face majestically, he whispered:

"It's my _magic_ eye!"

He was teasing her so obviously. If a passer-by had seen them, and ignored the obvious peculiarities of the pair, he or she would assume that they were a couple. The tiny smile that graced her sinfully beautiful face was a gift both to him, and from him. Had he been a normal man, she would have given him a playful shove; and, he would've then scooped her up to administer tiny kisses across her cheek.

As much as either would have thoroughly enjoyed these actions, it was simply not part of their game. It was too dangerous for either of them to give in to pure affection. She would lose more than she was willing to give, and he would lose any ground he'd gained. He could play this game for eternity, and she would at least try to prevent his triumph over her for as long as her mortal mind could take it. Maybe, for as long as her mortal life would last.

As quickly as that tiny smile had graced her face, it had also left it. She turned her head and faced forward again. She sighed resignedly. Sarah doubted that he would give her any straight answers tonight, but she could try as earnestly as he was trying to seduce her.

"Why are you here?"

Jareth was still looking at her heavenly profile, "Because it's what you want."

"Maybe," she whispered.

It was one word. It was just one, perfectly ambiguous, meaningless word, but it brought a world of hope to the Goblin King's heart. That all too familiar smirk was on his face again, unconsciously. As soon as he realized it was there, he had wiped it off. If she'd seen it, he certainly would've lost. He produced a crystal in his hands and proffered it to her. He leaned in so very close to her ear, his breath tantalizing every nerve in her body.

"Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say," he paused, inhaling softly before continuing his offer, "And I will be your slave."

He'd lingered on that last word, knowing how important the boundaries of power between them were. Make her believe. He watched her face slacken; her head tilt so that he was even closer to her skin. He smiled sinisterly. And, without warning, she flipped her head around to face him. Her cruel, cruel eyes were so fervently enraged.

"What the hell does that mean anyway?" she asked shrilly, barely able to contain her rage.

Jareth looked mildly shocked by her reaction, and then broke into a full laugh. The crystal disappeared from his fingers. This was why he wanted her so: she would never give into any temptation he'd offered, a childlike innocence always encompassing her.

"Questions, questions," he whispered, mockingly, "Always the inquisitor, Sarah."

Her rage subsided slightly, and she faced the park, drenched in inky darkness, once again. What did she have? Who did she have? Yes, she had her family, and her precious little brother. She had her fluffy sheep dog. She had her apartment, stuffed full of dreams that she knew were true. And, whenever anything went wrong, she had the Goblin King to sit on a park bench with her in the middle of the night. Maybe it was tiredness sneaking up on her, but she began to consider it.

She feared him already, although she'd never admit it verbally and he likely knew, regardless. She loved him, oh God, did she love him. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to do all sorts of unmentionable things to her. Most of all, she wanted him to stop whispering sweet nothings in her ear. In fact, she really wanted him to whisper sweet _somethings_ in her ear. She wanted him to protect her, and perhaps it was part of the fear she had of him, but she wasn't at all that sure that he would. She wanted a security that she was _almost _certain she would never have if she were with her fabulous Faerie king. It was the _almost_ that got her every time. There was such a huge air of uncertainty surrounding Jareth. Would he tire of her if she gave in? Was she being seduced by words that would entrap her for an eternity in hell? What did he really want from her? Was she really willing to find out? Was she really willing to risk her very being in order to do so?

It was the "do as I say" that always stopped her from giving in. What exactly did that imply? It was too vague, too ambiguous, too open-ended. Everything about the offer was both seductively tempting and perilously unclear. He never changed the offer, never altered what he was willing to give, never promised her anymore than to be her slave. And at what cost to her?

Jareth was quiet for the duration of her mental battle, and Sarah almost forgot that he was there. She came back to reality in full force, armed with questions. Well, _one_ question really.

"What will I lose?"

She'd never risked asking such a question before, not even once in the ten years since she'd first rejected his offer. It was giving up the high ground. She was admitting that she was starting to fall into his treacherous clutches. Jareth was slightly surprised, however not disappointed, that she'd asked…finally. He inclined his head slightly, giving off a regal air. He was preparing to negotiate, he was becoming political.

"What are you prepared to concede?"

She blinked, facing his generous question with confusion. She had never thought about what she'd been willing to give up. She'd always considered that when the time came, as she knew it would for all her fighting it, he would take without asking. That she would grant him everything she was by accepting that nasty, little crystal drenched in words of indefinite meaning. She looked into his eyes, as though searching for some sort of assistance there. She broke the contact, realizing how childish and foolish it was to seek help from him when he'd given her the chance to call the shots. Sarah raised her chin defiantly.

"I want to see Toby," she stated clearly, her voice projecting a confidence that she did not feel.

When Jareth said nothing, but only looked at her as though to say, "That's all?", she'd added, "Whenever I want."

Jareth shrugged slightly, as if these terms had been expected. As if they were a given.

"I want to be able to come here, to the Aboveground I mean, whenever I feel like it."

Jareth's face appeared shocked by the banalities of each request she made, causing Sarah to become riled. What had he expected her to say? Angry, she'd allowed those words to tumble out. She was unwittingly relinquishing control; giving him full court.

"What did you expect me to give up? Or, not give up, I should say."

She felt foolish. This whole conversation was imprudent. Things weren't always as they seemed, and she may have very well already agreed to his offer simply by raising the subject. Panic raced through her, starting in her stomach and feverishly spreading to all her limbs leaving her feeling weak and tense. Her eyes were a storm of confusion.

Jareth watched her explode in inner turmoil. He'd won. But, he'd known this when his arms were around her in the crystal ballroom ten years ago. He'd only needed to convince the overly cautious creature that she was irreparably in love with him. He'd needed to show her that no one that she would ever try to replace him with would ever compare. It had been relatively easy on that front as she pushed men away herself, by having such unconsciously high expectations. Expectations that exhausted even him.

While she was consumed with a panic that fogged her brilliant green eyes, he pulled his gloves off. His soft fingers found her face and delicately, deftly drained the terror from her. He felt the tension in her melt away. Jareth lightly tilted Sarah's face so that she would gaze into his. Her eyes cleared, and that luminous innocence that resided in her, and would always reside in her, was unmistakably present. He pulled her face to his and was met with no resistance. He gazed into those feisty pools of jade which were now subdued with an unspoken longing. Jareth understood her longing. However, his own longing had never been unspoken. His eyes, a murky blue which, shocking as it was to Sarah, betrayed a sincerity he rarely, if ever, expressed.

"And I will be your slave," he whispered, all arrogance gone from his demeanour; a King without his impenetrable armour.

His lips brushed hers tentatively, as though any wrong movements would cause her to crumble in his grip. Sarah was taken aback by Jareth's tenderness, her own mouth responding automatically and feverishly. It was Jareth's turn to be taken aback. He had waited an eternity for a love to possess him as wholly as his love for Sarah had. In the past, and even now despite her zealous response, he felt as though he walked on eggshells, tenuously avoiding those pieces that he would crush easily underfoot and focussing on those he would cause the least damage treading upon. And, now, here she was crushing his lips in a violent outbreak of pent up passions, destroying every virtual eggshell he'd ever imagined.

Desire welled up inside the Goblin King. Such an entrancing creature: Sarah Williams. What an ordinary name for such an extraordinary woman. He broke from her lips for a moment, and tilted his head up to look at her. He liked what he saw. Her eyes were bright, full of vivacity; her perfect skin flushed with lust; her lips bruised and wanting more. Her arms were around his neck, as he raised a hand to brush her inflamed lips lightly with his fingertips. She'd responded with a delicate, playful nip. He smiled slightly, his smirk returning, his eyes never leaving hers. His fingers traced her jawbone smoothly. The moment his fingers left her skin, he had procured a crystal and held it at Sarah's eye level.

She stared at it. She knew what was coming. She knew that she'd lost, and if that meant she was going to hell in a hand basket, well she hoped the ride was smooth. She wanted him, always had, and she was so weary of fighting it. He had won, no cheating had been necessary, just a little patience. Alright, ten years is a lot of patience, but she imagined for a Faery, ten years was more like ten minutes. She didn't know what Jareth had in store for her, but she was about to find out. She smiled slightly, as long as it involved him against her in some form, to hell she'd go…or to heaven.

Jareth was still staring at her intently, as she stared with equal intensity at the crystal before her eyes.

"Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say," his voice trailed off as he watched her. He would not recover from a rejection, and however confident he was in his win, the memory of a bitter defeat rang clear in his mind, even now.

Sarah bit her bottom lip hesitantly and disentangled her hands from behind his neck. She held them in front of her and raised her eyes to meet Jareth's. The connection between their fixed gazes never broke as the cool, heavy crystal slipped from his fingertips into her cupped hands.

In that moment, a passer-by would have seen a man giving a woman a gift on a park bench in the middle of the night. And, in the instant that the crystal made contact with Sarah's hand, in that moment that their lips met once more to satisfy a craving that would consume them both, a passer-by would have seen an empty bench that reminded them of falling in love.


End file.
